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The Lord Ruler's perfect capital city, Luthadel, is doing the impossible: rebelling. Skaa half-breeds are being taught the power of Allomancy, something that the Lord Ruler's obligators said only existed in the nobility. The enslaved skaa, with their murderous benefactor, now fight back against a living god's oppression.

So, the Inquisition was formed. The nobles begin to fear assassination from all sides. The times of nobility Mistborn killing each other are over. The Steel Inquisitors look for aristocrat traitors and insurgent skaa, and the skaa try with all their strength to merely survive. The Lord Ruler's perfect Final Empire is slowly devolving into chaos.

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Mistborn Series Brandon Sanderson
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Matters of Discretion

Private W2 D3 EM Eliane Casuana Andrew Elariel

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#1 Eliane Casuana

  • Seeker Streetear

Noble Socialite
  • Age23

  • Relationship StatusSingle

  • OriginAustrex

  • Allomantic StatusHidden

Posted 31 July 2017 - 04:50 PM

Eliane caught her heel tapping and forced it to still for the fourth time since being brought into this waiting parlor in Keep Elariel. She didn't want to seem nervous, but she always got a bit antsy when working with Great Houses. If she didn't catch herself, she'd start tapping something sooner or later.

She'd dressed nicely, of course. Not a high noblewoman's gown, but a well-made dress of a good cut, the kind of slightly more expensive outfit that a working noble kept for important occasions.

She wasn't often called into a keep for meetings and exchanges. Yet, when a contact of hers—one whom she'd long suspected of Elariel ties—had requested she come speak in person with one of the Elariels, the offer was too tempting to pass up. She wasn't actually sure which of them wanted to see her, but she'd find out soon.

There really was no reason to be nervous. Elariel wasn't a terribly dangerous House to interact with, more the type to play it safe and watch the field. It wasn't like she'd walked into Keep Sureau for a meeting or anything. She should be fine. She supposed all the finery just reminded her a bit her childhood.

The heard the rhythm of her fingers tapping against the wooden armrest before she realized she was doing it again. Was that the rhythm for bronze again? She always seemed to default back to that one when she wasn't thinking.

In an effort to distract herself, she mentally ran through what she'd come to sell, playing the facts back in her head. Whoever it was wished to know about Rhea Venture, and though she didn't have anything particularly scandalous on the woman, sometimes that was what a client wanted to hear. Lords would check with informants to make certain new business partners or potential allies didn't have any skeletons in their closets before moving forward with plans. In some cases, boring intel confirming that everything was as it seemed could be as valuable as a massive secret.

This would be easy. She'd get in, report what she had, get paid, and be on with her day. Simple.

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